The Bite
by theblankgirl
Summary: The Elric brothers have been traveling for a while in the East and West, but what happens when Alphonse disappears? Edwards travels to the eastern edge of Amestris to search for his brother. Factor in Edward's lack of alchemy and a chimera that has begun stealing military secrets and finding Alphonse seems nearly impossible. Post-series.
1. Returns

**A/N:** AGH new fanfic when I really should work on what I've started (plus what my friend asked me to write, which should be up in a while)... Oh, well, I've been feeling kind of writer's block-ish. Besides, I've been in a fullmetal mood lately.

Because the time frame is a little confusing, here it is: This is about two and a half years post-manga. One and a half years was rehab for Al (remember, he had very little muscle), something over half a year of traveling for the brothers, and nearly half a year of searching for Al. It took Ed nearly a month to cross the country, so that's part of the time spent searching.

Alright, so I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist (though I do own what I've written) and there is going to be some milder swearing, perhaps a little violence. As it is in my head right now, no pairings besides canon ones, and they are not the focus of this story. Please read and review and (hopefully) enjoy!

* * *

"Still no luck," the young man said, voice dull.

The voice sighed. "You're nearing the half-year mark. There's no pleasant way to say this, but he's probably already – "

"Shut up!" he snarled at the voice on the other end of the line. "I wo- I _can't_ accept that!"

"You have to give up before the desert kills you! With that leg – "

"If you ever had a brother and he disappeared, would you just give up after a couple of measly months?"

"Ed – "

"Would give up just because of a bit of pain?!"

"Edward Elric, listen to me!" the voice on the other end shouted. "The chimera with him were killed! He's not coming back!"

"I don't care! I won't stop looking!"

"Wait – "

_Bang!_

The young man had already slammed the receiver down. He stood there for a moment, fists clenched and knuckles pale. Then he shook his head and walked out of the hotel and into the blistering heat. He had only been outside for a few moments but already sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead.

Edward Elric stewed in his own personal hell, the fringe of the desert between Amestris and Xing. The desert, for him, was impassable. He had attempted the journey three months ago, and it had taken nearly a month for him to recover from the heat-sickness caused by his automail. Now he had to waver on the edge, stuck between needing to push forward and being unable to do so.

"Dammit!" he cursed, kicking a rock with his foot. "Telling me to give up, that bastard general probably told Hawkeye to tell me to do that!"

Edward paused in his rant and looked up at the sky, searching. At last he turned away, smirking at his own stupidity and hope.

"As if Al would be there."

* * *

A week later, Edward arrived at an overly expensive restaurant in Eastern Headquarters with a scowl on his face. He set his suitcase down with a thud and sat down without a word of greeting.

"You know, I would have thought that a year or so of seeing the world would make you more mature. It seems I was mistaken."

"Shut up, you crappy general," Edward said. "I've spent the last six months searching for my brother; do you really think I'd be in a stellar mood?"

Roy Mustang smirk fell off his face. "That's what I called you over here to talk to you about."

"Not this again."

"You have people who care about you and they hate seeing you tear yourself apart over this."

"Does this group of people include you?"

"Yes, and it includes Winry, the people in Risembool, that teacher of yours and her husband, my men, Riza…we are tired of seeing you wear yourself out for someone who, at this point, probably isn't coming back."

Edward was silent.

"I'm forbidding you from continuing the search."

"WHAT?!" Edward exploded, his face red. He stood up, overturning his chair. His fist slammed on the table. "You can't do that! I'm not in the military anymore – you aren't my commanding officer! What right do you have?"

"Not as your commanding officer, but as your friend, Edward. Notice the difference between when I say your name and when I say 'Fullmetal'? Now pick up your chair and listen to me!"

Edward ignored the command and hissed, "And friends keep friends from finding their brothers?"

"I'm not keeping you from finding your brother; I am keeping you from killing yourself over a wild goose chase."

"I am not going to stand for this – "

At that point, a young soldier rushed in. He glanced about the restaurant for a moment, then made a beeline for Mustang. His face was red and sweaty. "Oh, good, you were here. I was sent to find you, sir. I have an urgent message from First Lieutenant Hawkeye."

As the soldier and Mustang spoke, Edward righted his chair and sat down again. He propped his legs up on the table and crossed them, watching.

"What? What is it?"

"There's been a break-in at Headquarters, sir. We've lost some military documents."

"What?! Please tell me you apprehended the suspect."

"No, sir. He was difficult to catch."

"Why is that?"

"He – he knew the building well and he was, well, sir, you'll think we're barking but – "

"Speak clearly." Mustang's voice was sharp. "What happened?"

"He was a chimera, sir."

Mustang was silent for a moment, fingers tapping along his jawline. Finally he said, "Describe him."

"The suspect looked to be a young man, probably in his early twenties, medium build, short brown hair," the soldier recited. "The chimera aspects were dog-like ears and a brown furred tail sticking out from just above his trousers. He was probably transmuted with a dog."

Mustang's gaze flicked to Edward and back to the sweating soldier. Something seemed to occur to the alchemist, but he said only, "Fine. Let's go."

Edward did not get up. Instead he leaned back and crossed his arms. "Are you going to leave your wallet behind? Dinner's your treat, right?"

The general looked at the young man with cold eyes. "You're coming with me, Fullmetal."

"Fullmetal!" the soldier gasped. The two turned to stare at him with mixed incredulity and irritation. He blushed and continued, stumbling over his words, "Ah, sorry, sir. It's just you're a legend and I never thought I'd get to meet you! The things I've heard that you do with your alchemy are just so – "

"Did you also hear that the great Fullmetal Alchemist is retired?" Edward snapped.

"And he completely forgot about my contributions," Mustang said. "If anything, I should be the one who is irritated."

"Sorry, sir, but I see you all the time and I've never seen _him_."

"Don't I feel special?" Edward and Mustang said, nearly in unison. They looked at each other and snorted. Edward was grudgingly gave into his amusement and smiled.

Now that Edward seemed a little less angry, Mustang decided that it was safe to bring up part of what he was thinking. "Will you help me catch the chimera?" he asked. "He's stolen military secrets, maybe not just ours. He might have stolen something that'll lead to your brother."

Edward fidgeted for a moment before standing up. "Fine. That's just about as much of a lead as I've had so far."

With that, the alchemist general and the former alchemist swept out of the restaurant.

* * *

The chimera had not run far. Instead, he sat on the slanted edge of a rooftop a few blocks away from where the military was patrolling. They looked like ants scurrying around after some of their number had been stepped on. The chimera growled and shook his head to clear the image.

He glanced at his watch. There was still a couple hours before he had to get to the rendezvous point. That was enough time to dawdle and get something to eat. He had seen a woman selling meat buns earlier that evening. They had smelled so good…all he had to do was follow his nose.

Of course, he would have to mask the chimera aspects first. "Before that, gotta get off this rooftop," he muttered to himself. The chimera had developed quite the habit of talking to himself over the last several months. The babble drowned out the howling in his head.

As he climbed down into the alleyway, he whispered, "I wonder what brother would think."

* * *

They had nearly reached the military base when Mustang asked, "Can you fight?"

"What?"

"Can you fight?" Mustang repeated.

"I heard what you said; I just don't know what you mean by that," Edward replied, gazing out the automobile's window.

"I've never seen you fight without alchemy before. I need to know if you can fight; I don't want to stick you in the field if you can't defend yourself."

Edward glared at the general, his irritable mood growing worse. "That's not the military's issue, is it?"

"Edward."

"Fine, fine, fine." Edward sighed. He fiddled with a loose strand of hair, then looked straight at Mustang and said in a somewhat offhand manner, "Do you really think I would've sat on my ass the whole time we were helping Al rebuild his muscles? Nah, I learned a couple new techniques during that time. Besides, Winry rigged these gauntlets for me." He slid back his sleeve to reveal a gauntlet made out of a deep red cloth that covered the back of his wrist and extended up his forearm.

"How do they work?"

"Winry could explain the mechanics to you, but basically if I do _this_ – " Edward flexed his wrist and a blade slid forward. The position and length was much the same as his transmuted automail blade, but the this was thinner and much less tapered except for the end. He flexed his wrist again and the blade slid back. "See? I can hold my own."

Mustang nodded, still a little worried. Edward was pretty confident even without his alchemy. Sure, he could certainly take a normal person in a fight, but what about an alchemist - or a chimera?

* * *

The chimera crouched in the alleyway, concentrating.

It was so difficult to force back what had become his nature. He had to focus on his humanity, not his wildness. Human sensation was color and the warmth of palms against palms; it was quiet moments and loss of smell, the taste of stew and cold metal in his hands, the weariness of trailing behind someone else, the movement and flexibility of fingers, voices calling his name, such _warmth_ –

The chimera ran his hands – human hands, with no claws – over his head and the base of his spine. No dog ears, no tail. Good.

As he left the alley in search of the meat buns that had smelled so good, he passed an automobile hurtling towards the military base. The chimera guessed that it was some officer called in due to the break-in. He caught a glimpse of gold in the window. He shuddered. No, he couldn't be _here…_

The chimera shook his head and walked on. "Impossible!" he told himself. "He's in the west."

He sniffed the air and followed the faint aroma. This way. "There!" He spotted the woman selling meat buns. He had to wipe a bit of drool off his lip before he walked over to the stall. The woman finished putting away the money from a previous customer and greeted him.

"Hello," Alphonse Elric said with a smile. "How much for two?"


	2. Incompetence

**A/N:** Alright, so I was a little disappointed over the lack of response. That's (part of) why I've taken so long to update and why this chapter is kind of short for the wait.

I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist (though I do own what I've written) and there is going to be some milder swearing, perhaps a little violence. As it is in my head right now, no pairings besides canon ones, and they are not the focus of this story. Please read and review and (hopefully) enjoy!

* * *

_Two Months Previously_

Alphonse woke slowly, his head muddled.

He blinked. Something was wrong with his vision. It took a moment for him to understand. He couldn't see any color. _Maybe it's just the fact that I'm stuck in a cell right now. They aren't the most colorful of places…_

_Wait – a cell?!_

He shot wide awake, bolting upward. With huge eyes, he took in his surroundings. Alphonse crouched in a dark cell of gray concrete with cold metal bars making up one wall. Light poured in between the bars; he could hear the faint fizz and crackle of the lightbulbs.

A voice, female, middle-aged. "Sir. It's awake."

"Good, good." This was another voice: male, slightly older, rough – it sounded as if the owner was a chain smoker. It belonged to the fast approaching footsteps. "Let's see it then."

Alphonse whimpered as the sharp footsteps came closer. He remembered that voice and he knew he didn't like it. There was a tang to that voice, like blood and salt.

"Hello, Alphonse. How are you feeling?" the man asked, wearing a congenial smile. Alphonse knew there was something really wrong with his head: not only did the man seem to be in monochrome, but he couldn't remember the man's name and the words took a moment to register, as if he were translating them from a foreign language.

The boy growled, a reaction which surprised him but only made the man laugh. "Seems like you're feeling just fine. Well, fine enough for our purposes. Now tell me, do you still remember what I asked you to do?"

Alphonse's lip curled upward. "Asked me? You tried to threaten me into betraying my brother and my friends! I'm not gonna do it!"

_They haven't tied up my hands. _His thoughts were still a little sluggish. _I can still perform alchemy!_

A wave of nausea rolled through him. His chest felt hot and tight. Alphonse fought both to breathe and not to throw up. He moved to clap his hands and the nausea grew worse.

_Am I afraid of alchemy? _

He raised a shaking hand to his face and something caught his eye. Alphonse brought his hand down to look at it. His breath caught.

His nails had become thick blunt claws.

His scream rang throughout his prison.

* * *

_Present Day_

Alphonse started, dropping the last of his second bun.

"Aw," he mumbled. "Darn."

As he stared mournfully at the remains of the meat bun, a stray cat crept forward and began to eat it. An urge rose in him, heavy and ugly, to chase the cat, to tear after it, to rip it apart to pieces, to shreds…

He shook his head. "That's not like me. I like cats. I've liked cats since I was a little kid," he muttered to himself. His feeble voice did not do much to convince him.

Alphonse glanced over at the cat again and shuddered. He turned and began to walk away at a brisk pace, trying to put as much distance between himself and the cat as possible. He could do without the temptation.

He glanced at his watch. "Ah! I don't have a lot of time left. I gotta go pick up the documents from the hiding place and then dash!"

* * *

Edward followed Mustang out of the automobile. Military personnel swarmed through the building, each pushing past their coworkers in their rush. Obviously the thief had upset the inner workings of Headquarters.

As soon as she saw them, Hawkeye immediately hurried over. "Sir. Edward."

"Hawkeye," Mustang replied.

Edward said nothing, still irritated over the phone call from earlier. Even though he knew Mustang had put her up to it, he just couldn't… "Dammit," he muttered.

"You've already been made aware of the situation, correct?"

"I'm familiar with all but the specifics. What did this thief of ours take?"

"He took documents relating to foreign affairs, though he overlooked everything detailing our military's movements regarding other countries. Nor did he take anything related to alchemy."

"Huh," Mustang frowned. "That's…odd. He sounds like a foreign spy, but he didn't take anything the other countries tend to be so interested in. They're always ravenous for new information relating to our alchemic advancements."

"I have a good guess," Edward interjected before Mustang could go on.

"Shoot."

Edward scratched the side of his nose. He spoke slowly, thinking about what he was saying. "Maybe the guy's Amestrian. So far, we're the only country I've know that's done chimera alchemy to the level required to have a functioning human-based chimera." He grimaced, remembering finding the bodies of the two chimera Alphonse had been traveling with.

"Why would an Amestrian steal secrets from his own government?"

"A grudge? Or maybe he's controlled by a different country. Who the hell knows?"

"Well, we won't know until we get our hands on him," Mustang said.

"How do you propose we do that, sir?" Hawkeye asked him.

The general paused and hummed under his breath. "He's almost certain to come back. It sounds like he didn't take too much intelligence, so he likely failed in whatever mission he had somehow. He'll be back soon. Hawkeye."

"Yes?"

"Go get someone to make up a list of what documents _exactly _were stolen. If I'm to do my blasted paperwork, I need to know what is missing."

"I'll get someone on it, sir."

With that, Hawkeye turned sharply on her heel and left.

* * *

Alphonse whimpered softly, holding a hand to his cheek, which he was sure would blossom into a bruise by morning.

"Incompetence!" seethed his handler, pacing in front of him. Alphonse didn't know the man's name and that made him all the more frightening. "You better go back there tomorrow."

"Bu-but, they're going to have Mustang there and you _know_ I can't go against him…" Alphonse's voice trailed off as his handler slammed the wall with his fist.

"Are you sure you really want to feed me excuses? I'm about this far away" – the man held his fingers a centimeter apart – "from dialing Rancor right now and telling him that you aren't following orders!"

Alphonse's eyes widened; he grasped at his handler's sleeve in desperation. "No! You can't! I'll go, I'll go, please, just please don't call him. I'll…I'll do anything, just please don't, don't," he babbled. Wetness trickled done his cheeks, a mixture of tears and sweat.

The handler ripped his sleeve away. "Stop sniveling!" he ordered. Alphonse shut up abruptly, clapping a hand to his mouth. With a softening of his features, he patted Alphonse's blond head.

"Good dog."

Alphonse bit the insides of his cheeks and nodded.


End file.
